


There Is No Beauty In The Wreckage

by BrenIsntHome (NicoGreyjoy)



Category: Video Blogging Fandom, Video Blogging RPF, Youtube RPF
Genre: Anxiety, Cats, Chronic Illness, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Character of Color, LGBTQ Themes, Mental Health Issues, Platonic Relationships, Protectiveness, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, they/them pronouns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:48:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27888535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicoGreyjoy/pseuds/BrenIsntHome
Summary: Rowan is a small-time YouTuber (and by small-time, they mean there's probably 12 poorly edited videos in total currently living on their channel and half the time they forget they even have a channel). They tend to focus more on selling their art from the safety of their apartment that they only leave on a need-to basis, living in relative obscurity.But it turns out that if you are invited to participate in a charity livestream by Jacksepticeye and his pals, that can get you a lot of fucking attention. Including attention from said YouTubers and streamers themselves who, for reasons unknown to Rowan, want to be friends and are far too invested in their wellbeing.
Comments: 16
Kudos: 67





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know. Just an excuse to write fluff and found family fiction. No ships! Only platonic friendships.

The stream is supposed to happen at 12pm PST. They totally haven't been up since 12am consumed anxiety to the point of throwing up twice. Definitely not. 

They're honestly not sure how they got in this position in the first place. Playing Among Us with some of the most famous youtubers in front of millions of viewers. Thankfully, most of said viewers are probably going to be tuned into the other livestreams instead of watching them directly. A fact that relieved a tiny sliver of their overall anxiety. 

Briefly they wonder if they should pop one of their emergency anxiety medications, but decide against it. Sometimes it makes them sleepy and they don't want to embarrass themselves more than they're already going to. 

Clutching their fifth cup of coffee tightly in their hands, they stare nervously at the screens in front of them. It's a relatively new set up; a stark change from the shitty, blue HP laptop they've been using for five plus years. They entered a giveaway for the hell of it and ended up winning a brand new professional streamer level computer set up. 

They are not a professional streamer. 

Their gaming history includes the original Silent Hill Game on Playstation 1 and a few games on an Xbox 360 that is barely clinging to life. But at least they now have a reliable computer to stream on. 

Because apparently that's a thing they do now. 

Stream on Twitch with famous youtubers for charity and then post the highlights to their barely noticed youtube account that consists of a very, very honest "Draw My Life" video and a few vlogs/rants on anthropology and sociology. 

Maybe it's not too late to back out? They could blame it on being sick. Afterall, they _are_ sick. Technically. They could easily blame it on their body betraying them and just crawl back into their bed and ignore the world. And does it really matter if they're part of the charity livestream? Their presence doesn't really matter. They're just the lucky fan that Jacksepticeye selected to play Among Us. It's not like their presence is the reason anyone is coming to watch. 

Jacksepticeye, Pewdiepie, Crankgameplays, Valkyrae, Sykkuno, CorpseHusband, Pokimane, Toast, Lily.

 _That_ is why people are going to be watching. Not them. They don't even really need to have their own Twitch stream going so why did they bother-

A sudden ring startles them out of their thoughts and they almost spill their coffee on themselves. 

'Sean McLoughlin' lights up the screen of their cracked iphone. _Jacksepticeye is calling them._

But of course he is. He said he was going to call a little bit for the stream started to make sure they are able to connect...and also give them a crash course in Among Us. Playing a game is different than constantly watching other people play, and they may have accidentally rambled about this on the first awkward phonecall with the Irish man. Naturally he had volunteered to teach them the basics.

_But Jacksepticeye is calling them right now._

Deep breath in, deep breath out. Do not throw up. Control the speech issues. Audio processing WILL work today. 

_"Rowan! How ya doin?"_ Sean's cheerful voice greets from the other end of the call. _"Ready to play some Among Us?"_

A sudden wave of dread washes over them and they swallow harshly. Well, looks like it's too late to back out now. They answered the call and accepted their fate. Charity livestream here they come. Maybe they'll get lucky and the ground will open and swallow them up. 

"Ready as I'll ever be. I'm gonna get murdered first, I know it," they joke, trying to keep the nervousness out of their voice. Sean's boisterous laugh follows this statement and the sound of it surprisingly puts them at ease. Maybe it won't be as bad as they thought. 

_"I mean probably. Especially with Corpse playing. But who knows! Maybe you'll surprise yourself and be better than him."_

Such a nice man. Too bad he doesn't know how terrible they are at literally everything and how they destroy everything they touch. Playing Among Us is going to be no different. "I highly doubt it."

Their response gets another laugh out of the man and they chuckle along, nervously. 

_"Alright, let's get you set up. Do you have your stream and discord set up?"_ Sean asks. They make a noise of confirmation. 

_"Good. So let's get you in the game-"_

The two of them spend a few minutes getting chatting as they get acquainted to the game. Sean is patient as ever and doesn't seemed bothered with their game of twenty questions. The audio processing disorder is unfortunately in full swing today and following his carefully explained directions is proving difficult. But eventually they are able to grasp enough of the logistics to not look like a _complete_ idiot. 

Just in time to go live and for others to start joining the call. 

_"Hey! What's up- oh wait! Hi! Is this Rowan?"_

And that's Valkyrae. Rae? They're not sure what they should call them. Screen names or real names? Screen names or real names? Well, they called Sean by his real name so they guess it's okay to use real names. 

_"Yep! This Rowan. Wanna say hello, Rowan?"_ Sean encourages them. They wonder if he can sense their anxiety. 

"H-Hey," they greet softly. 

_"Hi! I'm so glad you could join us!"_

They nervously tug at one of their faux locs. Rae seems as cheerful as ever, and as nice as Sean. Hopefully everyone else is this welcoming. It might just make this next six hours bearable. "Me too."

Six goddamn hours. 

One by one, the others join the discord call. Soon everyone is joking around with each other and their presence is nearly forgotten. Good, they think. Pay as little attention to them as possible. They thrive in their ghost like existence. 

_"Is this our guest!? Hello, why didn't you say hi?"_ Crankgameplays. No, Ethan. God fuck.

 _"Yeah, guys this is Rowan. Rowan, everyone else. Be nice to them, please."_ Sean.

 _"We're_ always _nice."_ Pewdiepie......Felix? Felix. First names. First names is the correct choice here. Right. Right?

 _"So good to have you,"_ comes Corpse's smooth baritone says, followed by Sykkuno's softer _"Yeah, good to have you!"_

There's a round of hellos and introductions as everyone joins the lobby and they suddenly find themselves feeling very overwhelmed. The nauseous feeling creeps back up and for a minute they're certain they're going to hurl all over their fancy new computer set up. A loud ding from their phone draws their attention away from the screen. It's quickly followed by another ding. Looking down, they see they have two discord messages. 

_Sean: Good luck! You got this!_

So he had sensed their nervousness.

_Corpse: Hey, we don't know each other but streaming for the first time can be hard. Especially if it's not really your thing. But from one faceless internet being to another, they're really good people and it's going to be okay :)_

Yep, Corpse is just as sweet as they thought he was. A small smile works it way onto their face. 

Maybe they can do this. 

**[1]**

It went better than expected. Not great, but far better than they expected. 

Everyone was just so....so kind. Even when they had no fucking clue what they were doing and ran around like an idiot. They're pretty sure everyone knew they were the imposter the first round but we're just too nice to vote them off immediately. 

Being an imposter is not their strong suit, they had discovered. 

_"Rowan totally vented! I saw it with my own two eyes!"_ Felix.

 _"I'm convinced."_ Toast _._

"Hey, I don't I get to defend myself before I'm cast into the void!?" they had exclaimed in a surprising move of braveness. They had been quiet a lot. 

_"No! You vented. You're the imposter. My vote is for Rowan."_ Pokimane. 

_"C'mon guys, let's give them a chance to defend themselves!"_ Ethan. 

_"Fine, fine,"_ Felix relented. " _What do you have to say for yourself, Rowan?"_

"I don't know how to do it."

Everyone immediately started laughing hysterically. 

"For real! How do you vent? How do you open doors? _Where is the medbay????_ " This only caused everyone to laugh harder. 

There had also been quite a few moments when their dark and self-deprecating humor had come out full force and had garnered a lot of laughs (and seemingly some concern that they actively ignored because they are fine thank you very much). Like when the group was using proximity chat and they were running from their lives away from Felix (who was in fact the imposter). 

"You stay the fuck away from me. Away, demon!"

_"Pfft, such a potty mouth!"_

"I know. My parents tried but could never quite beat it out of me."

 _"Oh my God._ "

And the comment about their previous relationships. 

_"Are you dating anyone, Rowan?"_ Poki had asked. They can't remember what exactly had gotten them on this topic. 

"Nah, rather not go through that trauma again." 

There had been the tiniest of pauses, one that you wouldn't notice unless you were specifically listening for it, before they started laughing. _"Yeah relationships can suck, dude,"_ Corpse agreed. He sounded cool and collected as ever, tone not betraying his real thoughts on their comment. 

And that one moment in the dead chat.

_Sykkuno: Welcome to the land of dead!_

_Valkyrae: We're all Corpses here ;)_

_Rowan: Glad to be here. I figure its time for me to finally be as dead on the outside as I am on the inside_

_Valkyrae: NOOO omg_

_Spedicey: LOL_

They hadn't even made fun of them when their speech had gotten bad for a hot second there. 

"I was in the- the medheh djwe."

_"Haha, what?"_

"The, t-the, the um. Um!"

 _"Did you forget how to speak English all of a sudden?"_ Toast. 

_"Leave them alone! They're doing their best!"_ Ethan exclaimed. _"Take your time. Well, preferably less than 30 seconds because we need to vote."_ Distantly they think about all the compilations of Ethan not being able to form words in Markiplier Makes and Unus Annus. There is probably some solidarity there. Even if it's not for the same reasons. 

_"They were with me in admin! Rowan is completely innocent,"_ Lily said helpfully as they continued to struggle.

"Yes, admin. I was in admin being a good task boi." 

No one brought up their speech difficulties after that. Which they appreciated greatly. They were already embarrassed enough as it is. 

The six hours had flown by, and they can't remember the last time they felt this happy. The last time they had felt included and appreciated. 

It's....nice. 

Shutting down their desktop, they lean back in their chair. A soft groan escapes their lips as they massage their temples. They stared at the screen for far too long and they can feel the inklings of a migraine coming on. Not to mention achiness and stiffness in their limbs that was becoming more and more noticeable as they no longer had the game to distract them. This is why they can't sit at a desk for too long. How the hell does Corpse manage to do this stuff semi-regularly? Because Jesus Christ, is chronic pain the absolute worst. 

"Fuck I'm tired," they mumble. And hungry, and thirsty. Come to think of it, have they even drank water today? They can't remember the last time they feed and water themselves. It's a real struggle to do that some days. They're about to stand up and do just that when their phone dings once again. 

Groaning, the blindly reach for their phone, nearly knocking everything on their desk over in the process. What now? What could people possibly want now? All they want to do is feed themselves, feed the cats, and curl up under the covers. 

Their phone dings three more times and they finally bring themselves to look at it. There are three new discord messages. 

_Sykkuno: You live in LA right?_

_Sykkuno: Are you busy tonight?_

_Sykkuno: We're all getting take out from this sushi place. We thought you might want to come hangout......as long as you can keep Corpse's secret identity a secret. We finally convinced him to join us ;)_

They blink slowly, not quite sure they're reading this correctly. Were.....were they really just invited to dinner by some of their favorite people in the entire world (not that they would ever say those words out loud, mind you)?

A strange feeling bubbles up inside of them. They're not sure what it is. Longing, yearning, sadness, anxiety. Maybe all of the above and more they can't identify?

They cannot deny that a part of them desperately wants to accept the invitation. To meet up with these awesome people and hangout somewhere. They don't have anyone here to spend time with. But then again, have they ever really had anyone to rely on or spend time with? The impulsive move to Los Angeles a few months ago just further confirmed their suspicions that they are alone in the world. 

Their own family hadn't even noticed they had moved until they posted a picture on their rarely used facebook....

Another ding. 

_Sykkuno: Rowan, you there?_

They almost say yes. They almost agree to hop into their shitty little ecosport and drive to this sushi place despite their fish and shellfish if it means they get have some sort of human interaction. But that would involve actually showering and making themselves presentable. It would involve them dragging themselves to their car and being awake enough to drive in LA traffic. It would involve them grinning through the pain in their body and trying to act like nothing is wrong. 

Most importantly it would involve them actually showing their face in public and they aren't sure they can do that. 

It also means suffering through the inevitable disappointment when they're dropped like yesterday's garbage after today. Once they see them in person, once they see how awkward and strange they are, once they see what's behind the voice they met on the stream today....they'll never be invited again. They won't be given a second thought. 

It's not worth the heartbreak.

_Rowan: Sorry, I'm allergic to seafood :/ Thanks for thinking of me tho!_

Not really an excuse, they _do_ have an allergy. It makes sense for them to decline. 

The typing dots appear.

_Sykkuno: Oh no :( Well we can order something else? It's not an issue_

_Rowan: No no, you all go ahead. I have a little bit of headache anyway._

_Sykkuno: If you're sure..._

_Sykkuno: Feel better!_

For some reason their eyes start to string and they hastily wipe at them. They are fine. Just fine. It's for the best. They shouldn't get attached to people whose only reason for hanging out with them is because they won a stupid contest to stream with Jacksepticeye. They were probably just being nice and didn't actually them there. Why would they?

"Yeah," they whisper, letting the phone fall onto the carpet with a soft thunk. "I'm sure I'll feel better soon."

-

1am and they are still awake. 

Exhausted yet wired. Wanting nothing more than to crawl under the covers and stay there yet too agitated and anxious to do so. They feel like they're crawling in their skin and everything is just too much. 

So they do what they always do in these situations; scream into the void of twitter where no one cares what they post.

_-_

_Rowan @sadqueertimes_

_Sometimes I wonder if this is all worth it, ya know?_

_-_

_Rowan @sadqueertimes_

_Some days it just all feels like too much and I don't know what to do_

_-_

_Rowan @sadqueertimes_

_What if it never gets better? That thought haunts me. What if nothing changes_

_-_

_Rowan @sadqueertimes_

_It's probably stupid to just whine about how my life sucks all the time. Plenty of people have it worse_

_-_

Ding! A notification from twitter pops up on their phone. 

-

_Corpse Husband @Corpse_Husband  
replying to @sadqueertimes_

_< 3_

_-_

For the second time that night they feel their eyes start to sting.


	2. Chapter 2

If Rowan didn't have two cats that loved them more than they loved themselves, today might have been the day they finally walked into oncoming traffic. 

Cracking their eyes open, the first thing they notice is the blinding headache. It feels like their skull may actually split apart with the force of the pounding. The second thing they notice is the wave of "fuck it all" that seems to wash over them once they are able to fully process that, yes, they are in fact still alive. 

Glancing at the clock on their bedside table, Rowan stifled a groan. 12:30pm. They're already so far behind.

-

It's 1:30pm before they can drag themselves out of bed. Rowan is very thankful that Gandalf the Stray and Balerion the Black Dread are good free-feeders and the dishes can just have food in them all of the time. Otherwise there probably would have been some angry meowing by now. 

They really  _ should  _ get out of bed this time. There are a few orders they have to finish and ship today. The projects aren't going to sew themselves and people have, you know, paid money for these items. 

Rowan barely suppresses another groan as they force themselves into a sitting position, head pounding and body aching. God they need coffee. Or water. Probably water if they're being honest. 

_ Or death... _

Their thoughts often drift down that path. No matter how many therapists have tried to give Rowan coping skills or how many medications they have tried, nothing has been able to curb the consistent ideation. Speaking of medication, they're also late on that. 

Three meds for their head. Three more for their body. Over the counter pain meds to pick up the slack. 

_ And they all barely fucking work _

Rowan rocks in place for a moment before finally pushing themselves up from their bed, limbs shaking.

Coffee. Water. Shower. They can do this. Coffee. Water. Shower. 

But first bathroom. They've had to pee for about an hour now but couldn't force themselves to get up and relieve their bladder. Priorities.

-

2pm. They've managed to make it down the steps from their loft area and to the kitchen area of the one large room below without killing themselves. Not for the first time they wish they would have gotten a single floor apartment. But this tiny, shitty loft in a rather questionable area was so much cheaper. 

"Coffee coffee coffee," they chant, clutching a mug in one hand as they watch the dark liquid finish brewing. 

Just as they're about to poor a cup of the coveted liquid, their phone starts to ring. 

"Oh for fucks sake...."

It's not like anyone really calls them. They don't have friends, they only talk to three family members and even those conversations aren't a regular occurrence. Rowan honestly can't think of anyone who would have a reason to call them. With a sigh, they put their mug down and pick up their phone. 

'Sean McLoughlin' lights up the screen and they pause. Why would Sean be calling them again?

Rowan stares at the Discord call and almost decides to ignore it. Almost. 

Fuck...

"Hello?" they ask, turning around and leaning against the counter.

_"Rowan, hey!"_ Sean's voice has a strange tone to it, but they can't quite place what it is. _"I just wanted to make sure you were okay?"_

They blink slowly. "I...thanks? But uh, why? I mean- I'm fine! Thank you for checking, but I'm fine. One-hundred percent fine so I'm uh....just confused?" Rowan rambles nervously, twisting one of their locs in their free hand. 

There's a pause on the other end. _"That's good, I'm glad. Sykkuno said ya weren't feeling well last night and then your twitter was kind of....."_ He trailed off, trying to find the words to articulate his thoughts. 

Ah, twitter. Rowan forgot Sean had followed them on Twitter. "Don't worry, Twitter it just were I scream into the void about how unfair life is. Nothing serious, just me being overly dramatic." If only that was the case. 

_ "Are...are you sure you're okay?" _

"Yeah! Yeah, I'm fine. Totally fine. No need to worry about me. I'm fine." Smooth. 

_ "Well then," _ he begins, _"that's good to hear. We were all a little worried about ya, especially when you didn't answer last night."_

Last night?

Rowan takes a moment to pull the phone away from their ear and look at the other notifications. There were at least 40 of them, mostly from Sean, another few from Sykkuno, a few from Ethan and Rae, and one from Corpse that must have come in shortly after he replied to their tweet. 

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to....I fell asleep-"

_ "No, no, it's okay. It's not a big deal. We just wanted to make sure everything was alright, ya know?" _

Why is he such a kind a person? They really don't deserve this. Especially when they barely know each other. Sean shouldn't have to worry about a random fan who shitposts on Twitter at 1am. It's not fair to him. 

"I'm okay," they reaffirm. "Honest."

_ "You know it's okay to not be okay, sometimes." _

"I know!" they snap, defensively. "I mean- sorry. Yes, I know."

_ "And if you're ever not okay you can call me, or text. It might be weird considering we've just met but...you have my number, okay? I'm serious, Rowan. I won't mind. You won't be bothering me." _

Why the fuck does he have to be so fucking kind?

"Thank you. I appreciate it," they reply softly. 

They exchange a few more words back and forth before hanging up. Rowan sets their phone down on the counter and stares at the kitchen floor, coffee long forgotten. Slowly, the slide to the floor, back against the cupboards and knees tightly drawn up to their chest. 

_ You're such a fucking liar. You piece of shit. You always do this. You always fuck things up.  _

_ Always. _

**[2]**

It's 5pm and ten new Etsy packages are on their way to their buyers. Five more orders for their prints came in immediately after they began to get ready to leave for the post office, but those will have to wait until tomorrow. 

Right now their only mission is to retrieve groceries and cat food. 

They're standing in the middle of a brightly lit store, the noise doing nothing for the headache that just _will not go away._ More specifically, they're standing in front of the sushi counter this store has. Because they guess grocery stores here have that kind of thing.

They drove a little ways away from their apartment in order to find a store with vegetables. Rowan is privileged in that they have a car. The food desert they lived in is mostly convenient stores and gas stations. It is a privilege that they can obtain healthier food. They recognize this. 

But after rarely leaving their apartment except to get cat food and litter, and often relying on grubhub or uber eats, they're not even sure what they want. 

Rowan may have been standing in this same spot for a weird amount of time by now, staring at the neat packages of raw fish that line the shelves of the counter. They could have gotten sushi last night with their friends. 

No. _Not friends._ Just people who were nice enough to invite them out exactly once before completely forgetting about their existence. Acquaintances at most. 

But they could have gotten sushi with their _acquaintances_ and ended the six month period of near total isolation. Did they develop a slight seafood allergy out of the blue a few years back and probably should not ever ingest said allergen? Sure. But before the spontaneous appearance of food allergies, they had eaten sushi regularly and they still remember what spicy tuna rolls taste like. 

Everyone had seemed excited about the sushi. Rowan could have just kept their mouth shut and dealt with an itchy mouth and nausea. It probably wouldn't have led to anaphylaxis. 

And they could have spent time with friends. 

_Acquaintances_ , they remind themselves. 

They are sorely tempted to pick up a couple packages of sushi and have it for dinner. They decide on tofu with peanut sauce and vegetables instead, slowly wandering through the store and setting the ingredients in their basket. Maybe if they actually cook instead of eating junk they might feel better.

Maybe.

-

Rowan is waiting in line when their phone goes off again, the ding startling them out of their thoughts. 

The reach into the pocket of their oversized hoodie and pull out the cracked device, part curious and part annoyed at the more frequent interruptions they've been experiencing over the past day and a half. 

It's Rae.

_Omigosh your print just arrived and it's even more amazing in person!_

_My print?_

_Yeah! Ordered one from you before we met. I didn't realize it was you until it came.  
The packaging is so cute! Did you make that too?_

They did, in fact, design the packaging too. Everything they sent was handmade and personalized, even if the recipient isn't going to appreciate it. Logically they know most people aren't going to care about the carefully put together packaging Rowan did for every order. 

They're totally not salty about it. 

But the fact that Rae seems delighted about it does create a warm sensation in their chest.

_I design all my packaging_

_I love it! You're so talented :)_

Rowan can feel their cheeks warming beneath their facemask. Reading comments from strangers on Etsy is very different than the compliments that come directly from someone you know and look up to. 

_Thank you <3_

A beat.

_Have you eaten yet? We're being lazy and grabbing take-out again.  
_ _I promise there won't be seafood this time_

_Sorry, I have to run some errands tonight :(_

_Aww :( Another rain check then! You'll join us yet_

They don't reply to Rae this time. The anxiety is slowly creeping back in, replacing the warm feelings from the first part of their conversation. Why the hell are so they determined to spend time with them? It was just a one time charity stream. There's no need to invest this much time and energy into trying to be friendly. Especially when it's someone like Rowan. 

It's all so confusing.

**[2]**

By the time 10pm rolls around again they are exhausted but still unable to sleep. 

Rowan has been pacing aimlessly around their apartment for about two hours, arms wrapped tightly around their middle. Gandalf and Balerion dart around the apartment in the midst of their nightly zoomies, but they aren't really paying attention. 

Everything feels fuzzy and distant. It feels like they're floating. The scenery around them looks strange. Rowan knows, logically, that it must be their apartment. They are home. But something about it feels wrong. Something about them feels wrong, like they shouldn't even be there. Almost like they aren't really here.

Nothing is making sense right now. 

Their phone dings again. It's been going off like crazy. Not Discord, this time, but notifications from twitter and youtube. Apparently a lot of people have found their shitposts and shitty videos interesting and are nor subscribing. 

Does that mean they have a responsibility to these people now?

Do they have to make regular content for all these people who are now expecting things from them? 

Rowan isn't sure they want that responsibility. Rowan isn't sure what they want or what's going on right now. There is so much noise in their head and they _do not know what to do about it._

Their phone dings again and for a brief moment the agitated gremlin in their brain wants to throw it through the window to make it stop. 

They do not throw it out the window. Rowan instead picks it up and stares blankly at the long list of notifications. At the number of people who have followed them in the span of a few hours since Rae tweeted about the art. At the pick up in order requests for said art. And at the Discord message because of course there is another message in Discord. Why wouldn't there be? 

Rowan doesn't even read the contents of the message before they're opening the app and hitting "call". They don't know what possessed them to do this. It was a very impulsive urge and their brain does not do well with impulse control. Surprisingly it picks up on the second ring. 

_"Rowan?"_ comes the familiar Irish lilt from the other line. 

Their mouth opens and closes a few times, unable to form words. A small noise makes it way out of their throat and the immediately slap a hand over their mouth.

 _"Rowan."_ It's a statement this time. _"Are you okay? What's wrong."_

An overwhelming urge to hang up and run wells up inside of them. They're barely able to hold the phone up to ear because their hands are shaking so bad. Why did they do this? Why the hell did they call Sean, fucking _Jacksepticeye,_ like that's something they can just do? Rowan shouldn't have done this. They should not have presumed that after one stream they can call him whenever they feel like it. 

_"Rowan."_ Their name is said softer this time, Sean's voice full of such genuine concern that they feel their lower lip begin to tremble as the familiar burning sensation in their eyes returns. It's suddenly very hard to breathe and their uneven breaths become audible. 

They can hear faint voices in the background of the call and the sound of things shuffling around. There's a faint click like the sound of the door closing and then there is quiet.

_"Did something happen?"_

_"Can you tell me what's wrong?"_

_"Rowan, please. What's wrong?"_

They don't know. They don't know what's wrong with them. They can't fucking breathe-

_"Rowan I need an answer or a location. Come on, please."_

They do their best to choke out words in between gasps. "I....I d-don't know what's....whats.."

 _"Okay, okay. Can you take a deep breath for me? In and out."_ In and out. In and out. Rowan can hear Sean's exaggerated breathes on the other line. They do their best to mimic his breathing but it's so fucking hard. 

_"Good. Just keep breathing. You're okay."_

_Am I okay? I don't know anymore. Everything is just so much._

_"You're going to be okay. I'm here for you. Just breathe."_

-

The next time Rowan wakes up they're curled up on the hard floor with their hair sticking to their damp face. A quick glance up at the clock on the wall lets them know that it is 9am. They're not sure how long they've been here or when they even fell asleep. The last thing they remember is-

Oh fuck...

The last thing the remember is impulse dialing Sean and not being able to breathe and then.....then what? What happened after that? Rowan can't remember much of the call at all, just that they made one and Sean picked up. Oh god. 

Wincing, they push themselves into a sitting position and cradle their head in their hands. God, their so nauseous. 

A soft meow grabs their attention and Gandalf gently head-butts their arm before rubbing against them. "Morning, bubby," they mumble, lifting a shaky hand to give the brown and white feline a few scritches. 

"Your parents a real mess, aren't they?" Rowan says with a humorless laugh. "A hot fucking mess." 

**[2]**

Rowan spends the rest of the day in bed. 

They can't even bring themselves to shower; just gave their underarm and shirt a sniff and decided that it was good enough for another day. Both of the cats migrate up the stairs with them and alternate between offering snuggles and zooming over their head with claws out while they chase each other. 

They went through a whole process to get them labeled as emotional support animals so their landlord is forced to allow them to have cats, and they repay them by behaving like gremlins. 

But Rowan can't be too angry at them. After all, they are the only living creatures that love them unconditionally no matter how much of a fuck up they become. Gandalf and Balerion don't care how hideous and disgusting they are. They just love Rowan for the piece of shit human being they are and they will never find that level of love anywhere else. They're sure of it. 

_And wow isn't that fucking depressing._

Another wave of nausea crashes over them and they honestly can't tell if it's because they're sick or if it's because they haven't eaten and took their pills on an empty stomach. Probably the second one.

They tried to make toast, but standing there was just too hard. It was either go through the effort of making toast and spend more time on the floor, or drag themselves upstairs where they could lay on an actual bed.

Their bed sounded more appealing. 

It's already getting dark again from the little they can see between the curtains on their bedroom window. How long have they been laying here, exactly? Rowan hasn't been keeping track of the time. 

Rowan stretches their arm out from under the covers and grabs their phone, quickly yanking it and the cord back into their blanket cocoon. 

6:35pm. 

15 messages.

5 missed calls. 

Ugh. 

_Sean told us you were having a bad night. I hope you're feeling better! :)_ \- Ethan

_Just checking in. Maybe we can figure out a day to finally see each other - Rae_

_Rae told me about your Etsy! I hope you don't mind but I ordered a few things - Lily_

_Let me know if you need anything <3 - Corpse _

_When you get this, give me a shout. Just want to make sure you're okay - Sean_

_Rowan? - Sean_

_Please answer your phone - Sean_

They should definitely call Sean back. They owe him that much. Especially after what they put him through last night. It wouldn't be right to ignore him after he's been nothing but kind to them. Even when they're losing their shit at ten o'clock at night. 

Hopefully he isn't too angry with them. 


	3. Chapter 3

Rowan doesn't call Sean back later. Or the next day. Or the day after that. Or even the two days after that. 

It makes them feel like a complete and utter shitbag of a human being, but they just could not muster up the energy for a phone call. Or even enough energy for a text. Rowan barely had the energy to get up and go to the bathroom or get water and feed their cats. But they know that doesn't excuse them ignoring Sean who has been messaging them consistently for the past four days.

It doesn't excuse ignoring someone who stayed on the phone with them during whatever the hell that episode was. He had no obligation to sit on the phone with them and try to calm them down. He didn't have to take the time of day for them or their problems. 

Rowan is grateful. Rowan is horrified. 

It's a strange mixture of cold dread and anxiety with a hint of warmth that they feel in their chest whenever they replay what little they can remember of that phone call. They can vaguely recall feeling strange and dialing Sean. They can remember comforting sound of his voice and his repeated directions to just breathe when they felt like they were going to die. They can remember him repeatedly asking what was wrong and what did they need, but they had no clue what they needed besides making everything just stop stop stop. 

Besides that, Rowan cannot remember what was said.

And that fucking sucks. Not knowing what they said or didn't say, not knowing what embarrassing shit they could have blurted out to someone who was still kind of stranger and had the power to ruin their life if they decided to blab anything.

Not that Sean would do that....he wouldn't. Right? No, he definitely would not do something like that. 

It's not the first time they've had gaps in their memory. But it doesn't get any less frustrating. 

Their head feels fuzzy and thick, still making thoughts difficult. 

Rowan knows they should really try and get up. They know they should at least send a single text to show they're alive. They should-

-

Rowan wakes up with a small start, momentarily confused.

The sunlight is peaking in through their curtains and shining in their eyes. It must be morning again, which means it's day five of them being a fucking mess. 

"Fuuuuuuuck."

They're still in bed, despite the fact that they had every intention to get up and get moving. But they at least feel....better? The fog has lifted slightly and their limbs feel less heavy. It's a relief, not feeling so out of it and exhausted that they can't force themselves out of bed. 

Sitting up slowly they run a hand through their faux locs, dimly aware that their hair is gross and it's time to remove the extensions. Their face feels oily and they are one hundred percent certain that the proper showering window has long since passed. 

In short they feel like a centuries old bog witch who is slowly decaying in the woods somewhere.

Rowan's stomach gives a sudden painful spasm. They should probably eat too. When was the last time they ate? They think it might have been when they came back from the store, right before their meltdown. Or did they eat? They're not sure. 

It's time to get up. They know this. Rowan has even managed to sit up, feet hanging over the side of the bed, positioned to stand up. 

They should get up

They should really get up. 

_They need to just fucking stand up it's not that difficult._

The sound of yet another discord notification makes them look towards their beside table. There are easily 100+ unanswered messages and calls, and a wave of regret and self-hatred crashes over them. 

"Fuck," they whisper again. 

With a trembling hand they reach out and grab the device before they can talk themselves out of it. Opening discord their eyes scan the host of messages from their....acquaintances? Each message growing more urgent and panicked as the days went on. Rowan swallows nervously, not sure what to do or say. Do they call someone back? Do they answer individual messages? Do they just send a general message in the group discord?

They settle on the last one. 

_Sorry guys, I'm okay. Just been a rough few days._

-

The water is bordering on scalding, yet they make no move to turn the temperature down. The heat relaxes their sore muscles and they sigh in relief as the grime from five days of not leaving their bed disappears down the drain. 

After sending an "I'm alive" message, they had barely managed to stumble their way to the bathroom, legs weak from days without proper hydration and nutrition. But they are determined to feel less like a bog witch and more like a person who appreciates access to soap and running water. It's difficult to stay upright and scrub at their skin and hair, but by the time they're done they feel....so much better. 

If nothing else, at least you can shower properly, they think. One life skill down. 

  
Stepping out of the shower, Rowan wraps a towel around themselves and heads back towards the bedroom, plopping down onto the side of bed to take a breather. It's frustrating that a twenty minute shower is enough to zap all of the energy they've managed to summon. 

How pathetic. They can't even get dressed. 

Their eyes move back over to stare at their phone, which was once again lighting up with new notifications. With a deep breath they pick it up again, preparing themselves for whatever they were going to see. 

_How much they hate you. How much of a shitbag you are. How you put them through all this worry for nothing. Pathetic._

  
_Oh thank goodness! We were getting kind of worried - Lily_

_For real, the disappearing act may have caused a few heart attacks - Michael_

_Michael, shush! Don't make them feel bad! - Lily_

_Glad you're okay. Hopefully things start getting better - Ethan_

_Don't scare us like that, dude. What were you thinking! - Felix_

_Be nice Felix! It's not their fault - Rae_

_I'm glad you're okay :) -Rae_

_I hope you're doing okay now. Let us know if you need anything - Sykkuno_

_For real. Just let us know - Jeremy_

_Nice to hear from you again :) - Corpse_

Rowan was not expecting these types of messages. Where is the rage, the disappointment, the nasty comments? Where is these people pointing out how terrible of a human being they are for pulling a stunt like this and telling them to never contact them again? Where is any negative emotion or reaction that they have more than earned this past week? 

Why are they so fucking nice!? What do they want from them? _What's the fucking catch?_ When does the shit finally hit the metaphorical fan? They can't just be being nice to Rowan for nothing. They have to want _something_ from them. That's how situations like this work.

....Right?

Fidgeting in place, they debate on whether or not they should continue engaging. Maybe if they just stop here they'll be left alone. You know, initiate the end instead of being surprised by it after they eventually fade back into obscurity and no longer matter.

The decision is made for them when a call starts coming through Discord. 

_'Sean McLoughlin'._

As much as they would like to, they know they can't keep ignoring him. It's not right. So with their leg bouncing nervously, they hit "accept" and let the call go through, bringing it up to their ear.

"H-Hey," Rowan says, their voice hoarse with disuse. They cough in an attempt to clear their scratchy throat.

_"Rowan, hey! How....how are you?"_

"I'm fine." Immediately after the words leave their lips, Rowan realizes this was not the correct thing to say, if the tense silence that follows is anything to go by. They can practically feel the frustration coming through the phone. 

_"You aren't fine, though. Are you?"_ Sean replies after a beat, tone carefully neutral. 

Rowan answers his question with continued silence. What could they possibly say to refute his claim? It's not like he's wrong, they are most certainly not fine. They are a train, a plane, and two bus rides away from Fine Station and they both know it. 

_"It's okay to not be fine, Rowan. You don't have to be fine all of the time."_ Sean still has that annoyingly soft and concerned tone to his voice and

They chuckle humorlessly, tugging at their now loc-less hair with their free hand. "You keep saying that." They try to make it sound snappy, it comes out more defeated. 

_"Because it's true!"_ he says emphatically, _"You don't have to pretend everything is fine just because you think it's what we want to hear. You're_ allowed _to have bad days. You're_ allowed _to ask for help when you need-"_

"I don't need help!"

_"Rowan-"_

"I don't need help. I'm fine. FINE! Why can't everyone just understanding that...t-that I'm..." their voice breaks mid sentence. "I'm fine. I'm f-fine."

 _"You're not fine. You're clearly not fine,"_ Sean says softly, _"and that's okay."_

Rowan shakes their head, even though Sean can't see them. "I'm always fine. I _have_ to be fine." 

_"You don't,"_ he insists, and they don't reply, can't reply. Any words, any fight they had in them at the beginning of the conversation was quickly draining out of them. Arguing simply takes too much energy they don't have. And also, _he's not fucking wrong no matter how much they want him to be._

There's a sigh on the other end. _"Rowan, please. I just want to help. People can't help you if you don't voice your needs."_

False. Rowan has voiced their needs many times in the past. Over and over, screamed it at the top of their lungs even in some instances. But no one has ever given a single fuck about what they need in the past, so why should they now? It's a foreign concept, the idea of people actually giving a shit about them and all of this attention feels fake. So fucking fake and they don't know how to react to it. 

"I....I am....not," they swallow harshly. "I am not okay."

_"I know. What do you need?"_

"I don't know."

_"That's okay. How about we try to figure out what you need?"_

"....okay."

**[3]**

It turns out that Rowan is shit at identifying their own needs. Their call with Sean was unproductive, with him doing most of the talking and Rowan just making noncommittal sounds whenever appropriate. Talking can be....a lot for Rowan. This happens sometimes, them being unable to form words and sounds. Sean seemed to catch on the longer they were on the phone and eventually had stopped pushing. 

The call ends with them promising to try and get up and at least eat and drink water. 

And to actually check in once a day with someone. Because apparently they can't be left to their own devices for too long and it's "not healthy to constantly isolate yourself". 

Rowan manages to get dressed and make it to the kitchen. They manage to eat a single piece of toast and a drink a glass of water before their chronically empty stomach threatens to rebel and they call it good enough. Having fulfilled their promises for the afternoon, they plop down on the couch and turn on the television. More for background noise than to actually watch it. 

There's a lot of things they could be doing right now besides laying on their couch and staring listlessly up at the cracked ceiling. 

They could be working on their commissions and prepping the ones that are already done for shipment. 

They could text Sean and confirm that yes, they did drink water and try to eat. 

Hell, Rowan could even get up and go for a walk in their sketchy as fuck neighborhood and actually breathe fresh air (which they have been told helps with depression). But all they seem to be able to do is lay there. They have successfully migrated from one depression hole to another and isn't that just beautiful? 

Eventually they pick up their phone and start scrolling aimlessly through twitter, carefully avoiding their notifications and messages. The ever increasing follower count is still distressing to think about, and honestly the more they think about it the more they want to abandon social media all together. Imagine being someone like Sean, or Ethan, or Corpse, or Rae, or any of the people they somehow connected with. Rowan involuntarily shudders at the thought of being as well known as them. 

At the same time they think about how horrible it must be to be famous, ten more follow notifications come in and Rowan suddenly has an overwhelming urge to throw their phone out of the window. 

_I'm really not that interesting, people. I make terrible art and shitpost at 3am. Find better people to follow._

_Maybe I should ask Corpse how he deals with this stuff? It seems like he'd understand._

Providing the extremely private man would even want to have a conversation with Rowan about this stuff. 

God, they should really be doing something productive instead of just laying here. They should really just fucking move. Be an adult. Clean their kitchen for the first time in, well....for the first time since they've moved in. Literally anything except laying on the goddamn couch or in their bed. 

Frustrated, they close the twitter app and turn over on their side with a huff, facing the television. They really don't want to do anything. Yet they want to do _something_. Rowan knows they should be doing something. It's a very complicated feeling, the drive to do everything and nothing at the same time. To feel the energy that has been lacking these past few days now thrumming excitedly under their skin yet having no willpower to actually get up and use it.

Fuck it, they're going to make themselves do something. 

They haven't had boba tea in a while anyway. 

**[3]**

Standing in line at the boba tea place, Rowan is filled with anxiety and regret. They should have just stayed in and worked on their commissions. Instead, they walked all the way through their tiny, sketchy section of LA to a slightly safer part of the city for the sole purpose of obtaining milk tea. With mango burst stars. Light ice. 

They're pretty sure this place is on uber eats, this tea could have came to them. But no. 

_Get fresh air, they say. You'll feel better, they say. You're going to catch the goddamn plague and/or get stabbed outside of your apartment on the way home, they say._

But Rowan has already dragged themselves all the way here and honestly if they don't get their boba tea, it might be the final straw that breaks the depressed camel's back. They just want this one, simple thing. 

So they stand in line, drowning in their over-sized Unus Annus hoodie, a snoopy facemask pulled up OVER their nose (unlike most of the people in this line), waiting for their turn to order tea. Their arms are folded and their fingers drum anxiously as the line slowly moves forward. 

_Large strawberry milk tea, mango burst starts, light ice,_ they rehearse in their mind. _Large strawberry milk tea, mango burst stars, light ice._ They can do this. Rowan can mostly definitely say this simple sentence without messing up and embarrassing themselves. They are an _adult._ They are an adult that is perfectly capable of ordering boba tea all by themselves. Easy. Simple. 

"Oh come on, Sykkuno! You know I'm right!"

"Don't listen to her, she doesn't know what she's talking about."

"HEY!" 

"Y-You guys, maybe we shouldn't fight in public."

Rowan's gaze turns skyward and they briefly wonder if they've done something to offend God, or if sky daddy just has a really bad sense of humor. Because those are the only two reasons that these voices would materialize behind them out of fucking no where. 

But maybe it's not them. Maybe Rowan is hallucinating? Major depressive episodes can, and have, caused them to be a little out of it at times. This could all just be a manifestation of their stress at avoiding these people and their depression. 

"Yeah, can we just get tea in peace!?" comes a loud Irish voice.

Definitely not a hallucination. Of all the boba tea places you could probably find in Los Angeles.....they all come to this one. On this specific day at this specific time. Oh god.

But it shouldn't be too bad, they don't know what Rowan looks like? And most of them have only heard their voice one time during the stream......but Sean is here and they have talked on the phone extensively so it is very likely he'll recognize them. Very likely. 

Oh god. 

Rowan fidgets in line, trying not to completely lose their ever loving shit as they get closer to the counter. _Just order your tea and get the fuck out. They aren't going to be paying attention to you. It's fine._

They can hear the voices of Rae, Sykkuno, Jeremy, and Sean continue with whatever conversation they're having, and Rowan hopes that they're distracted enough to not notice them. 

"Hi there! What can I get for ya?" an overly cheerful girl asks as Rowan steps up to the counter. _Strawberry milk tea, mango burst stars, light ice._

"U-Um....large strawberry milk tea with uh....mango burst stars and light ice," they practically whisper, shifting uncomfortably under the gaze of the girl working the register. They anxiously glance over their shoulder to make sure that the people behind them are still distracted by their conversation. To her credit, the cashier seems unbothered by their sus behavior and gives them their total, customer service smile still plastered on her face. 

"And here's your card! You can wait to the left for your tea."

Rowan awkwardly shuffles over to the opposite side of the counter, happy to be a little farther away from the group of people. 

Out of the corner of their eye they watch Sean and the others step up to place their orders, still arguing with each other yet the laughter betrays the playfulness of it all. With the way they're interacting, it's obvious they're good friends. Rowan can't see the smiles and facial expressions under their masks, but the way their eyes crinkle suggests they're there. They all seem so happy together. So comfortable. What's it like to be in a group of a friends that all enjoy each other's company? 

Rowan doesn't feel some type of way about it. They really don't. It's fine.

_It could be you in that group if you weren't such a fucking loser..._

_Shut up!_

To their right, the group is wrapping up their order and Rowan can see them starting to move towards their side of the counter. Yikes. If their tea could hurry up so they can fucking bolt before being spotted that would be fantastic. But then again, maybe they SHOULD let the group know its them. Let them all see the human disaster they've been investing too much time in for a person they just met.

"Strawberry milk tea with mango burst stars?" the barista calls out, coming up to their side of the counter. 

"Yeah, that's me. Thank you," Rowan says quietly, reaching out to grab the drink. 

The conversation going on next to them suddenly dies. 

"....Rowan? Is that you?" 

Their head snaps to their side and they see Sean looking at them, a slightly unsure expression on his face. The others had stopped when they heard him and have curiously followed his gaze to look at them. 

In hindsight, they could have just ignored his question and pretended like they had no idea what was going on, but now it's too late. They had fucking turned their head to look at him after he said their name, eyes wide. Rowan can feel their heart rate pick up and their airway starting to constrict. 

Oh fuck. Oh FUCK...


	4. Chapter 4

There are five possible avenues that Rowan can take in this situation. 

  1. Deny everything
  2. Become angry and belligerent in an attempt to scare the group off and hope they never want to speak to them again after the unholy scene they caused over absolutely nothing
  3. Burst into panicked sobs because that's where today was heading anyway
  4. Channel the "flight" instinct in fight or flight, throw their boba as a distraction, and run away like the terrified baby deer surrounded by wolves that Rowan currently feels like
  5. Be an adult and say "hey" back to the nice man whose shown more concern about their well-being in the past week than their mother has in their entire 24 years of existence



There's no way that they can just deny it outright. Rowan had too strong of a reaction to Sean's question for them to not be the Rowan that he spent days trying to do a wellness check on. Panicking and insisting that no, they are not in fact Rowan, their name is Henrik and they just want to be left alone is not going to work. No chance in hell. Sean  _ knows  _ it's them, of this they are certain. 

Becoming angry and belligerent might work. Typically when you approach a person and they start ranting and raving and throwing things at you, you're going to back away slowly from the crazy person and retreat to safety. If Rowan were to start completely losing their shit and chase them away, there's a good chance that they would exit the teashop and leave them to their insanity.......Or they would become so concerned with Rowan's behavior that they would try to restrain their crazy acquaintance and get them the proper help. Because honestly, they feel like the kind of people to do that. 

And Rowan can't have that. Which means ugly sobbing and hiding in the corner while hoping they just go away is out of the question as well. Because then they'll probably just try to hug them or some shit. 

They could run. Not far or fast, they are far too chronically ill to sprint away at a decent pace, but they could just nope the fuck outta here right now. Go home, block all their numbers, delete their social media accounts, and fade back into obscurity on their own terms instead of slowly becoming less and less relevant as the months drag on. Running might be their best option. It might-

The weight of a gentle hand on their upper arm snaps them out of their thoughts and they look up to see Sean standing directly in front of them, brows furrowed in concern. "Hey, you okay?"

Rowan feels a slightly hysterical laugh bubbling up inside of them and barely manages to hold it in. Are they okay? Nothing about this situation is okay. Nothing in their life feels okay. All they wanted was to get some stupid boba tea and then go home and work on their Etsy orders. They hadn't wanted to be recognized, they hadn't wanted to talk to anybody, they certainly hadn't wanted to bump into these people who are just  _ so fucking kind and Rowan can't understand why they keep wasting their time on them and- _

The sound of something clattering to the floor and a sudden cold, wetness on their leggings makes them jump back. 

Rowan's hands have been shaking so bad that they have dropped their tea to the ground, the pink liquid pooling around their feet and on their converse. Out of the corner of their eye they can see other people in the café looking in their direction and Rowan's face burns with shame. 

God they really can't do anything right, can they?

_ This is why I never leave my apartment,  _ they think bitterly.  _ Can't do anything without causing a fucking mess.  _

Rowan continues staring down at the pink liquid as it travels slowly across the floor, chest tight

_ Where are the napkins,  _ they think,  _ I need to get the napkins. I can't just leave it like this, that wouldn't be fair to the workers.  _

"Careful." The grip on their bicep tightens and they are gently steered away from the mess they just made. "Rae's getting some paper towels. Don't worry about the mess." 

Rowan’s face continues to burn with embarrassment under their mask as they let Sean carefully pull them away from the counter and the small crowd of people who were gathered there. His hand never leaves their arm and they’re ashamed to admit that the weight of the man’s touch is somewhat….comforting. 

When was the last time they had physical contact with another human being? Rowan honestly can’t remember. Even before quarantine they had been relatively isolated from everyone else. Except for Chris.

Stop. 

There’s no need to think about him, that’s in the past. That doesn’t matter-

“How about we sit down? You’re shaking - are you feeling okay?” Sean’s voice is softer now and filled with so much genuine concern. It only makes Rowan even more frustrated with themselves. 

They’ve known this guy and his friends for less than two weeks and they just keep causing trouble for them. Just keep doing stupid shit and causing them to worry. 

_ Cause you’re nothing but a fuck up.  _

“You don’t look so good.” He motions to a chair at one of the outdoor tables, but Rowan shakes their head violently. 

“I have to go,” they mumble, jerking out of Sean’s hold. “I….I have to go.”

“Rowan please-”

“NO!”

Before he can protest further, Rowan whirls around and begins walking away at a brisk pace, ignoring the calls of their name and the confused voices of Rae, Toast, and Sykkuno who have just made it over to the table.

_ God,  _ all they want to do is curl up under their covers and never wake up. 

-

They make it back to their apartment and immediately collapse on the couch, curling into the fetal position. 

That was….a lot. 

What would it be like to have a normal brain? To be able to have normal interactions and friendships with people? To not make yourself look like a goddamn idiot in front of everyone and their brother in the middle of a boba tea shop?

Rowan groans in frustration, burying their face further into the couch cushion.

_ Why am I like this?  _

-

Their phone is, once again, buzzing out of control.

A steady combination of discord messages and social media notifications. 

Wrapping themselves in a blanket, Rowan blinks back tears of frustration and embarrassment. 

-

_ I should apologize,  _ they think from inside their blanket cocoon. 

Really, they should just fucking apologize. There's no excuse for how they acted.

But as Discord lights up their phone again, a feeling of dread overcomes them and they pull the blanket around them tighter. 

-

Rowan breaks. 

_ 8:41pm _

_ I'm sorry _

_ 8:42pm _

_ Are you okay?? _

_ 8:42pm _

_ I really didn't mean to be such an ass. I don't know why I did that. I'm so sorry _

_ 8:43pm _

_ Rowan it's okay. I'm not upset _

_ 8:43pm _

_ I made a huge fucking scene and I completely understand if you never want to speak to me again _

_ 8:44pm _

_ I wouldn't want to speak to me either _

_ I'm so sorry _

_ 8:45pm _

_ I'm not upset _

_ I realize you're probably not going to accept that right now _

_ But it's true. I'm not upset _

_ 8:46pm _

_ I just want to make sure you're okay.  _

_ Me, Rae, Sykkuno, Toast, none of us care about what happened _

_ No one is angry with you _

-

_ 9:15pm _

_ Rae _

_ Hey, I hope you're feeling better :) _

_ Text me back when you get this? _

_ 9:16pm _

_ Or call! I'm always here if you need to talk. Seriously  _

_ Just... _

_ Let me know that you're okay? Please  _

_ 9:20pm _

_ I promise I'm not mad _

_ I know, I know. That's like an invasion of privacy with yours and Sean's convo _

_ But really, I'm not mad. At all _

_ 9:21pm _

_ And I just wanted to make sure you know that _

_ - _

_ 9:45pm _

_ Toast _

_ Just checking in. It seems like you've been having a hard time _

_ I know we haven't talked much but _

_ If you need to talk, I'm here _

_ 9:46pm _

_ None of us would be upset if you needed to talk  _

_ - _

_ 9:55pm _

_ Sykkuno _

_ I'm sorry you're having such a bad day. I hope things get better soon :) _

_ If you need to talk we're here _

_ Maybe I'll see you for another game of Among Us, soon? _

_ - _

They're all just so....so kind. Rowan truly doesn't deserve their kindness. They shouldn't be such a fucking burden on people they just met. It's not their job to care about Rowan or deal with all of their crazy, 

It's not fair to any of them. 

**[4]**

Incessant meowing draws Rowan out of their sleep. 

They managed to get a solid  _ four hours  _ of sleep after the Great Boba Tea Fiasco That Shall Never Be Spoken of Again, and Rowan feels pretty good about it. Normally incidents like that haunt them for months on end and cause them to go at least four days without sleeping. You know, cause staying awake and replaying every single embarrassing second of what transpired is much more healthy than sleeping. 

"Mmmpphff, go aawaaay," they groan sleepily, not yet ready to join the waking world and deal with the stress and trauma it brings. 

Wrong answer. 

A tiny paw equipped with five even tinier danger daggers rears back before slapping them directly on their (thankfully) closed eyeball. 

"FUCK!" they curse loudly, handing flying up to cradle the right side of their face. Rowan can feel the tiny rivulets of blood dripping down from their eyelid and over their cheek. Rowan lets out a pained grunt as their curl into themselves, hand still clutching at their right eye. The scratches sting worse than lifetime's worth of paper cuts combined and they are tempted to lay here and pout about it all day.

It fucking  _ hurts.  _

"Really!? Fucking little trash goblin. I brought you inside from the cold! I feed you better than I feed myself! I bought you four cat houses that you  _ don't even use! _ " 

_ "Meow,"  _ comes the indignant reply from Balerion who is now sitting impatiently in front of his empty food bowl. Gandalf gives a small noise of agreement from in front of his own bowl, and two pairs of large green eyes stare at Rowan expectantly from the kitchen area. 

"Fine. FINE! I'm coming you little ungrateful shits-"

Rowan's sentence is cut short as they uncurl themselves and begin the process of standing up. Still half asleep, they aren't exactly paying close attention to their environment or the mess inhabiting said environment. 

Socked foot of clumsy human, meet stray paper on hardwood floor. 

Rowan doesn't even have to process what is happening before their feet fly out from underneath them, ankle slamming into the coffee table at the same time their back and head slams into the ground with an extremely loud thud.

There is a sudden influx of  _ too much too fucking much oh God  _ as pain flares up in their back, in their ankle, in their leg, in there fucking everything. Rowan has always been hypersensitive to pain and stimuli, particularly when stressed, thanks to a yet to be diagnosed condition that causes near constant pain. So this fall is basically the equivalent of a near death experience according to their pain receptors. 

"F-Fuck," they whimper, suddenly nauseous as their head throbs angrily. 

Rowan lays on the ground, unmoving, attempting to even out their breathing. The slightest twitch is enough to make their nerves sing, so they are not particularly inclined to try and get up again. Maybe they can just lay here until they finally die...

A tiny paw smacks them in the forehead and they feel yet another scratch added to this morning's collection of cuts and bruises. 

**_"Meow."_ **

_ I am one-hundred percent convinced that this is divine punishment for treating good people like shit yesterday _ .

-

Much to the annoyance of two hungry cats, it takes Rowan a good hour to get themselves off the floor and another ten minutes to limp their way over to where the cat food is stored. 

Everything hurts and they honestly wish they were dying. At least death would signal an end to their body feeling the way it does.

Rowan is currently hunched over the breakfast bar, a forgotten cup of coffee growing cold next to them as they cradle their head in their hands. If possible, the throbbing in their head has gotten worse in the hour or so since they ate shit and it was forcibly introduced to the wood floors of their apartment. It's probably not a good sign. 

Aren't you supposed to go get your head checked out after you bash it into a solid object or something? Check for a concussion and all that shit?

Rowan is certain that this would be the responsible thing to do. Concussions can be dangerous, apparently. But that would mean getting into their car and driving to the nearest emergency room. A fact that was complicated by one, not having insurance, and two, being in a state when they should not be behind the wheel of a multiple tons metal death machine. 

As much as Rowan jokes about going to meet God, they're not sure a car crash is how they want to accomplish this task. 

The spontaneous move to LA during a pandemic had drained much of their meager savings, and right now they are making just enough to not live in a cardboard box. They literally cannot afford a trip to the emergency room. They cannot afford to get into a car accident because the world is spinning around them. 

It's fine. Rowan is fine. They just have to take it easy for a few days and they'll be fine. 

Their phone vibrates next to them and they groan audibly. They briefly hope it's a text, but the way it keeps vibrating signals it's a call. 

_ Fuck.  _

Rowan blindly reaches for the phone and attempts to grip the device, fingers trembling with the effort. Their entire body feels heavy and their head continues to pound viciously. They hold it up to eye level and squint at the screen. 

It's Rae, calling on discord. Huh...

They know they should answer, but they let the call go through. 

It immediately rings again and Rowan curses silently. 

Rowan reaches out for the now cold coffee and takes a sip, wincing at the flavor. Hopefully the caffeine will help them be somewhat coherent during this conversation. They clutch the buzzing device in weak fingers before standing up and limping their way back over to the couch, plopping down. 

"Rae," they answer. 

_ "Rowan! Hi! How are you doing? I was kind of afraid you weren't going to answer."  _

They wince at the volume of Rae's voice. "Yeah, sorry. It's been a.....morning, you could say." 

_ "It's 3:30." _ A pause. _"Did you just wake up?"_

There's no judgment in her tone, just genuine curiosity. And for that Rowan is grateful. They've already gotten enough shame about their sleeping schedule (which is non-existent half the time) and don't feel like going into it anymore. 

"I- yeah, I guess. I didn't sleep that good." 

_ "Oh no! I'm sorry. Does this happen often? I know Corpse doesn't sleep that much either."  _

"Chronic insomnia. I either sleep a lot or don't....d-don't sleeeep at all." Rowan grimaces at the stuttering and slight slur of their words. God their head fucking hurts. Is it possible for headaches to be this bad? Rae, for her part, doesn't seem to notice or doesn't seem to care. 

_ "Does anything help?" _

"Not really." 

There's silence and Rowan can hear the clicking of keys and a mouse on the other end of the line. She's probably getting ready to stream, or taking a break from streaming. Which means Rae is busy and shouldn't be wasting her time on another Rowan wellness check. Before Rowan can break the silence, Rae starts talking again. 

_ "I was calling to check in. We uh, haven't really talked much since the stream and you're really bad at answering your texts." _

"I'm sorry.."

_ "No, no! It's okay. I'm not calling to yell at you or anything. I was just worried, you know? I've heard you've been having some bad days and just wanted to see if you needed anything. Or like, just needed someone to talk to or hang out with? We could order crappy take out and watch movies or something. Just chill. I know it's plague-y times but I feel like you might need some company."  _

Rowan swallows harshly. 

It would be a lie to say that part of their soul doesn't ache for human interaction. They've been alone since the pandemic started. Since before then, really. Rowan doesn't talk to their family much, if at all. And despite it being months ago, the break up still eats away at them late at night when they're laying in bed by themselves. There's no calls to mom or care packages being sent. There's no facetime or zoom calls on birthdays or holidays to see each other's faces. 

There's no planning what they're going to do with friends when the plague finally ends because, well, they don't have friends. Rowan has successfully managed to push any and every person who has ever showed interest in them away. 

Day in and day out, staring at the same walls, only briefly interacting with essential workers on their monthly grocery store runs. If that, considering they usually opt for grocery delivery and having their groceries placed directly in their trunk at the store. 

Even if Rowan had a close circle of friends and family, would it even matter? Half the time, they're either too depressed, too anxious, or in too much pain to go out and do anything. It's hard to maintain good relationships when you can't bring yourself to see them or talk to them most of the time. 

Rowan is chronically lonely and chronically deprived of human contact and interaction.....which research shows is BAD as humans are social creatures and thrive on being part of the group (thank you over-priced anthropology degree for this tidbit of information about human nature). 

But avoiding people from the start is easier than getting close to people and depending on them, only to watch them slowly pull away once they realize how much of a disaster Rowan is. How attempting to hang out with them or get to know them is too much of a bother. How everything about them is just _too much_ and they truly aren't worth the time and effort a relationship takes. 

But _God,_ that doesn't mean Rowan doesn't want that. Doesn't want friends. Doesn't want-

 _"Rowan?"_ comes Rae's voice again, softer this time. 

"Myplaceismess!" they blurt out before they can stop themselves. 

_"Huh?"_

"M-My place is a mess. I haven't cleaned in...." When was the last time they cleaned?

_"S'fine! Don't worry about it! Do....do you need some help? Cleaning up?"_

Rowan lets out a distressed noise. "No, no. You shouldn't have to. I, this place is a-a m-mess, I'm a mess I haven't...I'm-"

 _"Okay!"_ Rae interrupts, _"so I'm going to finish up here and come over. We can tackle the disaster zone, and then get food. No fish! I remember your allergies!"_ Rowan can practically hear the smile in her voice and their chest feels tight. Why is she so fucking nice? What's the catch, here? 

_"What's your address?"_

Rowan hesitates for a moment before relaying their address to Rae, who eagerly writes it down. Oh God, did they really just reveal their location? They can't tell if it's the anxiety or the pounding in their skull that is making them feel like they need to throw up. Probably both. 

_"I just have to finish up here and then I'll be on my way! See you soon~!"_

"Y-Yeah. See you soon."

They hang up the phone and let it fall onto the cushion next to them, staring at the blank TV screen in front of them. How the fuck did they manage to do this to themselves? 


End file.
